


Don't Call It Bro Night

by fennecfawkes



Series: Relief [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliens is Better Than Alien, Avengers Domesticity, Bro Night But Not Really Bro Night, Complicit Phil Coulson, Cuddly Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Kissing is Not, Kitchen Kissing, M/M, Monopoly is Boring, Steve Rogers' Cultural Education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennecfawkes/pseuds/fennecfawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Monopoly is played, Alien is watched, and Phil and Clint are so cute Tony nearly vomits. I don't own these characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call It Bro Night

**Author's Note:**

> Ask and you shall receive. I do like the two of them together like this and I like Tony and Steve as bros of Phil and Clint, so here's some more of this.

“Stevie, honey, can you be a dear and move me to Broadway?” Tony—yeah, Phil can’t call him Stark anymore, not even in his head—asks after rolling the dice.

“Someday, you’re going to call me by my actual first name,” says Steve wearily, picking up the Scottie dog and putting it on the correct space. “And it’s going to be great.”

“I’m assuming you want to buy,” Phil says. “Considering you have Park Place already. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but I think you’re cheating.” Tony hands him a stack of bills, and he tucks them neatly away. His banking system is perfectly organized, and everyone else knows not to disturb it.

It’s not the first time Phil, Clint, Tony, and Steve have gotten together. Actually, in the two months since Phil and Clint, as Tony so eloquently puts it, got their shit together, it’s become quite normal for the four of them to spend time together. Bruce joins on occasion, as does Natasha, but they’re both preoccupied, Natasha with solo missions at SHIELD’s request and Bruce with ... well, Phil’s not quite sure what Bruce is doing, but he’s sure it’s very important. Thor’s busy with Jane since she joined up with Stark Industries in R&D, but they do stop by for the more important events—karaoke, naturally, and the occasional Thursday night movie, which is always well attended. Typically, though, it’s this core group, and Phil doesn’t have to be pressed hard to admit that he quite enjoys it. Even when he’s losing, which, right now, he most definitely is.

“I think the whole billionaire thing gives him an unfair advantage,” says Clint, whose hand is on Phil’s thigh. It’s pretty normal for Clint to put his hands on Phil, whether it’s innocent (as it is now) or filthy (as it was 15 minutes ago, when Phil went to get a beer and Clint trailed behind before pushing Phil against the fridge and embarking on a thorough exploration of Phil’s mouth with his tongue) or somewhere in between (when he moves his hand up just a little too far on Phil’s leg at least twice a day). It took some getting used to for Phil, who loves the attention but has a bit of a problem with how public it is. But when it’s just Tony and Steve, it feels fine, whether Tony's catcalling or Steve's politely ignoring Clint’s tactile tendencies.

“Monopoly is based almost entirely on luck,” Tony says. “And that’s the last property, right? So it’s time to trade? OK, Phil, I want your slums and your St. Charles. I’ll give you the utilities.”

“I respectfully decline your offer,” says Phil. “My slums are built up and give me a nice little bonus every time you happen to darken their doors. And I’m not giving you another monopoly when you have the most potentially powerful monopoly on the board.”

“OK, smart guy. What about you, Spangles?”

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose,” says Steve. “What are you offering?”

“Utilities for Reading and Shortline.”

“Bad trade. Denied.”

Tony sighs. “And Barton has approximately nothing.”

“No, but I’ll give the banker $1000 for permanent possession of the Get Out of Jail Free card,” says Clint, who’s somehow landed in jail three times.

“Not in the rules, unfortunately,” Phil says.

“Monopoly fucking sucks,” moans Clint, burying his face in Phil’s shoulder.

“Has it been pointed out that the two of you are sickeningly adorable?” Tony asks. “I may have to make some kind of rule about how you’re only allowed to be this adorable twice per Bro Night.”

“That is not what we’re calling this,” says Phil.

“And everyone says that,” Clint says. “Like, all the time. It’d be annoying if it weren’t so awesome to be this cute.”

“Do you agree?” Tony asks Phil.

“I don’t disagree,” says Phil. “Are we done trading?”

“No one traded anything,” says Steve. “So, essentially, yes.”

“I think now would be a good time to tell everyone I’ve never finished a game of Monopoly in my life,” Clint says. “Not that there have been so many, but safe houses usually have it, and Natasha usually proposes it, and Phil usually ends it. Which I bet he wants to do now.”

“Why on earth would you want to bring such a rousing round of Monopoly to a close?” Tony asks.

“Because it’s incredibly dull,” says Phil. “And, as you said, luck-based. Which gets tiresome. Also, Steve’s never seen _Alien_.”

“Wait, what?” Tony looks at Steve as though he himself is an alien. “How have we let this happen? Barton, pack up the game. Phil, get us some more beers. This has to be rectified immediately.”

“You change your mind a lot, Stark,” says Clint, inexplicably not complaining about being the one to clean up.

“I was going to win anyway,” Tony says with a shrug. “And this is for Steve’s sake.”

“You did it!”

“I did, Steve. And it feels weird. I don’t think I like it at all.”

“How many times have you seen this?” Phil looks over at Clint, who’s carefully tucking away the tiny plastic buildings.

“Seven, I think,” says Clint. “I’ve seen _Aliens_ more, though, since it’s better.”

“That’s not true. Objectively, that’s not true.”

“It’s scarier and more fast-paced and you’re attached to Ripley so you care more about the results. How is it not better?”

“ _Alien_ sets the tone for virtually every thriller that followed,” says Phil.

“Oh, so it’s more important, then? That doesn’t make it better. Or more fun to watch.”

“OK, so maybe it’s the more fun movie. But it’s not better.”

“Agree to disagree,” Clint says, leaning against Phil and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Don’t get too comfortable. I’m apparently the beer valet.” Phil stands and stretches and Clint follows him to the kitchen, where he stands behind Phil and loops his arms around Phil’s waist, leaning his chin on Phil’s shoulder.

“I love,” says Clint, “that I can talk to you about movies and we can disagree and both care so much about the conversation.”

“I’m fond of it myself,” Phil says, opening a series of Brooklyn Brewery bottles. “Do you think Steve wants some beer, or is he just going to pull out that whole ‘I can’t get drunk’ spiel?”

“Beer is sometimes about taste,” says Clint. “Give him a Pennant Ale.”

“Good choice.” Phil turns his head so he can kiss Clint. Clint hums softly and leans into it, prolonging the kiss, turning it into two and then three and then four, by which point Phil’s turned in his arms so they’re facing each other, hands running along each other’s spines.

“I still can’t believe I get to do this,” Clint says into Phil’s ear, giving it a nip.

“I still can’t believe you want to,” says Phil.

Clint rolls his eyes. “Yes, you can.”

“Fine. I admit it. I’m an OK-looking suit at a secret government organization. That’s at least mildly attractive.”

“I swear you’ve never looked in a mirror before. Or listened to yourself talk.”

“This is entirely more interesting than hearing myself talk,” says Phil, kissing Clint again till he hears the now-familiar sound of Tony clearing his throat.

“Steve’s cultural education awaits, you rascals,” says Tony. “Unless you’d rather make out like teenagers in my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen,” Clint corrects. “And of course we would. But we’ll humor you.”

“You know beer won’t do anything for—”

“Yes, we’re well aware,” says Phil. “But Pennant Ale tastes good.”

“Fair point,” Tony says, picking up his beer and Steve’s. Clint and Phil take theirs and follow Tony back to the living room. Phil and Clint turn around when Steve says “Popcorn?” hopefully, and a few minutes later, they’re all settled in, ready for Sigourney Weaver and surprisingly good effects and perhaps one too many atmospheric shots and matte paintings. Phil slips his arm around Clint, who all but melts into Phil’s side, pressing a kiss to Phil’s neck as he goes. Phil looks up and sees Tony looking at him, smiling slightly. Phil smiles back. He’s not one hundred percent sure how this happened—he and the genius playboy billionaire and his childhood hero and the sniper he’s loved for an embarrassingly long time, settled down with beer and popcorn, watching a movie that, fine, maybe isn’t as good as its first sequel—but he can’t deny how glad he is that it did.

“What are you thinking about?” Clint whispers.

“Happiness,” says Phil. “And how achievable it is.”

Clint grins and scoots upward slightly to brush his lips against Phil’s. “With you there.”

“I know,” Phil says. “Ready for this?”

“Always,” says Clint, and though there’s kissing now and again throughout, for a while, the conversation is cut short, because Sigourney deserves that.


End file.
